Sugar and Spice
by JacquiDee
Summary: Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of. Sweat, tears, and hard work for years, that's what Divas are made of.


**A/N: So, this story idea and its OC Sara is property of WWE'sFinestDiva2012, but I was pretty excited to write it. I was watching some of the OMG and Greatest Ladder Matches of All Time DVD's and thinking to myself "Now if Divas went out there and did **_**that**_**, no one would take bathroom breaks when they come out to the ring". So I kinda ran with this one(: Hope you like it! Happy Reading!**

* * *

Sara Molinaro was not Lita. She was not from the Attitude Era, she did not take Twists of Fate and Spears into ladders, and she did not participate in live sex celebrations. And, as much as she admired the women who'd taken on the stars of the company, she didn't want to be. She knew that no one could replace Trish and Lita and Chyna, and she'd be the first to criticize anyone who tried. But that didn't mean that she didn't bust her ass to get where she was. She did not get her start in the Diva Search like so many of the modern divas. She knew that they looked more for pretty faces than an in-ring competitor, and she didn't want to be a doll that they flashed at the audience in too tight tops and too short skirts. No, Sara used her brain to get to where she was. She used every last connection she could find from her family and friends to a modern day star (she didn't want to be trained by wrestlers that'd had their heyday back when she was in diapers. As talented as they were, she needed a more up to date teacher) and, finally, someone had responded.

"See, that's why you take to the corner when you're outnumbered," Randy Orton instructed as he lunged for her in the center of the ring. He was her trainer, the man showing her the ropes. She had watched him on T.V, knew of his infamous matches with Mick Foley and Edge, and still couldn't believe sometimes that he was taking time to teach her. He'd recruited the help of the people who'd been the biggest names in the business, like Shawn Michaels who was currently lounging in the opposite corner, waiting for his cue, for some of her training sessions, leaving her star-struck and distracted for the first half of her practices. Randy liked to take on the responsibility of being a trainer, though, and rarely asked for outside help, saying that it was best for her to start off with one technique that she could master and add to her resume when she had had time and experience on her side. Only in situations like this when he was showing her how to react when outnumbered, or when she simply didn't understand his point of view did he ask for advice. One on one, she was able to duck away from his attacks and neatly dodge his opposition. He smiled at her and returned to his starting position. "You're really improving one on one Sara. Good job." She blushed slightly, and murmured a quiet thank you. "Alright Shawn, first time, she's gonna be in the center," he said, waving over the Heartbreak Kid. "You come in from the left, I'll take the right." She tensed and prepared for an offensive move, but when she turned to deflect Shawn, Randy snatched her by her unprotected side and had her hauled up onto his shoulders, ready to throw her over the ropes, in a matter of seconds. She emitted a tiny yelp and heard Randy's quiet chuckle as he carefully set her back down. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's alright Sara. You did good for your first time. This is why we train," Shawn soothed, flashing the smile that had made women in the 90's scream. She offered a small smile back and dropped her arms.

"Okay, I'm going to be a Diva, not a Superstar. Of course you can lift me, you're a guy," she grumbled under her breath, shooting an annoyed glance at the future Hall-of-Famer. He cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"I could always ask Layla to train you." She shook her head vehemently.

"No, I don't want to be trained by a modern diva or any diva at all, but I'm just saying that you're stronger than any of my competition is going to be." Randy sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"If you can fight me off, name a Diva that you can't defeat," he shot back, cracking his neck. She sighed in defeat and closed her mouth. He smirked. "Now, tell me what you learned."

"Well, I see why being in the middle is a disadvantage, but why do I go to the corner? Aren't I supposed to avoid doing that?" she asked, turning her pretty gray-green eyes to the Viper. He walked to a corner in the ring and leaned back against the turnbuckle.

"In the center of the ring, there are four ways your opponent can reach you. Head on, behind, to the right or to the left, correct? But when you're in the corner, excluding outside interference, the only way to be taken down is a head on attack. You can also gain a height advantage over your opponents by climbing the ropes." She nodded like she grasped what he was saying, but after a year and a half of training, he knew her expressions to a tee. "Watch," he said, stepping on the bottom rope, a silent sign for her to exit. She didn't complain this time as she climbed out of the ring. She took up a position near the corner he was in and carefully observed as Shawn called out John Morrison. She smiled and waved at her long time fighting partner (Randy was friends with Morrison and he was often at her practices to check up on her progress). Randy nodded, his back to the turnbuckle as both Shawn and John charged him. Years in competition had given him a stealth she didn't have yet, but he did his best to operate only on instinct. She did see, as John kept bumping shoulders and arms with Shawn (which made his hits less effective), why being in the corner was an advantage. And when Randy hauled himself to the second rope and launched a cross-body at both of them, sending all three crashing to the mat, she saw what he meant when he said "height advantage". He laughed as he helped both men to their feet and offered a hand to her as she climbed back up through the ropes. He raised his eyebrow in a silent "do you get it now?" question and she nodded.

"I see," she answered, positioning herself with her back to the turnbuckle. She looked over at him and smirked. "Bring it old man," she teased. He growled softly under his breath.

"I'm less than 10 years older than you squirt," he complained as John called his goodbyes.

"You're really progressing Sara. I think you're gonna be a serious threat," John smiled as he grabbed his sweatshirt from a chair in the corner and left. The butterflies in her stomach were indescribable as she absorbed the compliment from a former champion.

"Alright Shawn, let's see if she fights as good as she talks," Randy joked, both men taking a stance. She took a breath and maneuvered into a defensive position when they attacked. She put an arm up, blocking the majority of Shawn's hits and thrust out her left leg, catching her mentor in the knee. She ducked, sweeping her leg out and catching both men and, as they fell, she hurriedly ascended to the top rope. She looked down at her mentor and smiled.

"I see now!" she called as she launched herself off the rope into a graceful flip, landing delicately on her teacher's stomach. He let out a soft grunt as she picked herself up and shook his head, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Mr. WrestleMania.

"I say we don't show her any more tricks," Shawn whined, carefully rubbing the back of his neck. She smiled sweetly and hopped up to peck his cheek. The flush that spread over his face made her laugh.

"Sorry Shawn," she called as he slid out of the ring. He smiled up at her and waved.

"John's right. You've got a serious threat there Orton." Randy smiled and placed an arm over her shoulders, squeezing her tightly in a hug.

"I know. She's gonna blow the Diva's Division wide open."

* * *

Two years later, the Diva's Championship was heavy on her shoulder. She'd been Champion for nearly a year and a half (take that CM Punk), using her unique snake-like offensive techniques to take down Natalya at Over the Limit. It'd been one hell of a match, by current standards at least, but then again, Natalya had been trained as a Hart. Randy had come out with her and her friends to celebrate her victory, after all, he was the reason that she'd been able to get the belt at all. She was a good champion – she didn't turn into a spoiled brat who sashayed around with a guy on her arm, she didn't cheat to keep her title, and she defended it when she needed to without complaint. Her colleagues liked her, and she was rarely sabotaged. She got along well with most of the locker room, but, of course, there were the few guys that only saw her tanned skin and flat stomach, not her ability in the ring. She tended to avoid those men, not wanting to cause trouble, but she didn't run from them. So when The Shield arrived on the scene in WWE, she wasn't excited, but she wasn't particularly upset either. She didn't approve of the way they made their debut even though Punk was on the side of the locker room that was able to appreciate her talent, but she was the official face of the Diva Division, so she was icily polite to them in the hallways and on camera. But when they went after her former mentor, she lost any pretense of kindness she'd been upholding to them in between her matches. She wasn't oblivious to the probing glances that the three of them (especially Ambrose) sent her. The RAW that Dean asked her out, on _live television_, she wanted to go throw up. She'd said no, not even in her usual polite manner, and as soon as she was behind the curtain, she was at her teacher's side, wrapping her arms around his waist for support.

"It's just so…disgusting. He looks at me like I'm a piece of meat," she complained, still hovering near him. She was fairly sure that the rookies wouldn't attack her, if only because she was a girl, but she still stayed near the roster.

"I noticed. It pisses me off," he growled, handing her a plate. She took it, carefully piling on her favorites. She shook her head, her dirty blonde curls swaying around her face. Her belly shirt was looser than usual, a side effect of the stress she'd been under from The Shield recently, and her shorts had gotten longer since their debut. She hated letting them affect her personal life, and she may have been the champion of her division but she wasn't confrontational. She sat down next to The Viper (which typically discouraged the men in the company anyway) and picked at her food. "Sara, you've got to eat something," he said, concern etched into his face as he paused his own eating. She looked up from her food distractedly.

"Sorry. I know, I'm losing weight, but this situation is just annoying." She noticed when Randy's senses picked up something wrong when he glared at the door behind her. She shifted uncomfortably at the presence of three shadows falling over her. She clenched her jaw and turned slowly, her hands clenched on the back of her chair.

"Sara. Why don't you come down to the ring with us tonight?" Rollins said in way of introduction. She looked between them, rolling her eyes.

"I have a match to get ready for," she said shortly, turning back around. Roman's large hand closing around her bicep was startling. Randy was up in two seconds, knocking over his chair and drawing the attention of the others in the room.

"Take your hands off of her. Now," he hissed slowly, moving to her side. She looked around the room to see the others crowing their arms and watching The Shield carefully. She was the most well liked Diva in the company and putting your hands on her was something you didn't do. Sara narrowed her eyes and jerked her arm back.

"Do not think you have the right to touch me," she snapped, standing up abruptly. Her chair knocked into Dean, pushing him back a few steps. She stood next to her trainer and crossed her arms.

"Fine. We just thought you'd like to hear what we have to say," he muttered, pushing past her. Randy brought his hands to her shoulders protectively.

"I'm not afraid of them," she sighed, pulling away and stretching.

"I know, but when they say something, they usually mean it. Come on, we'll watch it from the side room," he announced, gently pulling her by her elbow to the room just off the ramp. She stood tensely in front of big screen, her title hanging loosely on her hips. She chewed her lip as the three made their way out to the ring, the crowd screeching their disapproval.

"We have come out here, not to talk about an injustice committed by the company, but to the company," Roman began. Dean grabbed the microphone and took over.

"The Diva's Division. It in itself is an injustice. Plastic Barbie dolls, that's what the corporation flashes in front of you and you just eat it up. Those girls in their itty bitty tops and tight mini shorts with no talent come out here, scream and pull each other's hair and you all scream. There hasn't been a talented Diva since…well there hasn't been a talented Diva! And do you know why?" he paused and the boos were so loud that you could barely hear Jerry Lawler shouting into his headset. "Because girls weren't meant to wrestle. They were meant to stay in the kitchen and out of our hair." Sara's body was so tense that she was vibrating and the girls who'd joined her were murmuring, but making no move to go out there. She whirled around.

"Sara, what are you doing?" Layla called in her slight accent as she made her way to the gorilla position.

"Showing those cowards what it means to be a Diva," she bit out, striding determinedly towards the curtain. Randy's hand around her wrist stopped her.

"Sara, think about this." She yanked her arm away and narrowed her eyes.

"Look, you either respect me as a competitor or you don't. And if you don't, go back to catering and talk with Damien about how I would've been burned at the stake in medieval England. And if you do, take your old butt out there with me and have my back," she growled, cocking her hip. He looked at her for a second with wide eyes.

"I can't believe you just called me old again," he whined, but he moved forward and held the curtain back. "Go on. Go kick some ass. I'll be right behind you." "Shut up and Drive" blasted through the arena and the audience lurched to their feet. The cheers deafened her for a moment as she strode out, but she didn't pause to do her smiling pose – she meant business as she marched down towards the ring, Randy stood proudly near the giant "W" up on the stage, knowing this was one time in her career that he couldn't teach her, a defining moment for her as a Diva, on her own. Her music cut short as she grabbed a microphone and stood in front of the three men who'd taken out her teacher, not flinching in the slightest.

"You three don't know what it means to be a Diva. I know Roman over there with his Pocahontas hair looks like one, but let's get one thing straight: I worked harder in training than the three of you have combined," she spit out, standing her ground. Seth lurched towards her, but she didn't move. "No, you let me talk now. You've started the battle, now it's my turn." Dean's beady eyes were trained on her and he slowly nodded, waving for Seth and Roman to back down. "You say Divas are Barbies in short shorts and tight tops? Look at me," she gestured to her long gray swats and her loose one shoulder. She drew an air circle around the belt that hung on her waist. "See this? That means I'm the best. I was trained by future Hall-of-Famer Randy Orton. Yeah, you see him right up there. I took hits from Shawn Michaels. When I have a problem with someone, Superstar or Diva, I get out here, in this ring, and call them out. You never see me jumping the barricade and attacking in the middle of a match like a group of cowards. You have proven nothing in this company except that you don't have what it takes to make it here, and, in 10 years, people will still be talking about my victory at Over the Limit and no one will remember any of you," she hissed, dropping the microphone and turning towards the ropes. She felt the presence rushing at her and turned at the last second, catching Rollins in the face with a back hand. She winked into the camera and moved to put her back against the turnbuckle. Dean and Seth came first, eerily similar to her training session with Randy and Shawn two years ago. She held up her arms, blocking Seth and ducked spontaneously, sweeping her leg out and catching them, knocking the men to the mat. Dean's flailing arms caught Roman on the shoulder and knocked him off balance long enough for Sara to either run or haul herself up to the top rope.

"Come on Lita. Tell me all those years I spent watching you weren't wasted," she muttered under her breath as she stood on the top rope and launched herself at Roman, landing neatly with her legs at his shoulders and flipping. She felt the ring shake with the impact of his landing body as an effect of her hurricanrana. She hopped delicately to her feet, grinning as he held his head. Her belt that she'd thrown through the ropes was now in her mentor's hands, who stood by the side of the ring with a smile on his face. She turned in time to catch Seth and Dean standing up and staring at Roman's slack body. Seth charged first, but, remembering the session she'd had with Edge, she flew at him, ramming her shoulder into his abdomen. As he rolled out of the ring, Dean stared at her, open mouthed. His eyes glinted and she pointed at The Apex Predator as he charged her. She ducked and, with her back to him, laughed when she jumped into the air and wrapped her arms just right for an RKO. She jumped to her feet and smiled as her teacher, and friend, swung into the ring and squeezed her tightly. She had managed to do what no Superstar had and cleared the ring of The Shield single-handedly. Randy raised her arm in victory. She scooped up the microphone, leaned next to Dean's head and said, "How's that for a pretty little Barbie?" The audience was in a frenzy, screaming as she made her way to the back with Randy's arm around her shoulder. What met here was the entire roster, Divas and Superstars, staring at her. She shrugged and moved to get one of the bottles of water stationed near the curtain. "Talk shit get hit," she finally said when the silence stretched out awkwardly.

"Damn Sara. You got game. Wrestle with us anytime," Wade Barrett finally said, shaking his head and offering her his hand. She smiled brightly and shook it.

"Anytime you want someone to kick your ass, I'm available," she teased, earning laughter from the room. Stars that had been supporters from the beginning simply smiled and clapped, but her skeptics stared openly as she reclaimed her belt from Randy and attached it to her waist. She met the eyes of every man in the room. "Who else wants to tell me I can't wrestle?" It was silent, the Divas letting out "mmhmms", when she rounded on them. "That goes for y'all too. They wouldn't say that if you could go out there and kick ass like that every night." The girls tittered and Kaitlyn stepped forward warily.

"Could you teach me?" she asked, ignoring the stares of everyone else. Sara's face lit up and she bounced forward to hug the young Diva.

"Of course. I'll teach anyone who wants to learn," she smiled, turning her head and winking at her mentor. "After all, I learned from the best."

* * *

Six months later, at SummerSlam, CM Punk challenged anyone in the back to come out and face him for his title. No one expected her music to blare through the stadium, sending the crowd to their feet in shock. And _no one_ expected her to end his exactly two year title reign with an RKO and walk out of the arena as the first woman to ever hold the WWE Championship around her waist, in addition to the sparky pink belt that hung from her shoulder.

* * *

"See, that's why you take to the corner when you're outnumbered," Randy, now mostly retired, instructed a young brunette who stood determinedly in the ring, tensed and ready.

"I think you've got a serious threat there Orton!" Sara called as she lounged in a chair off to the side of the ring, watching her mentor train a younger version of herself, a smile on her face, and the WWE Championship belt still securely around her waist.

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**A/N: There is a box right about there, yeah, down there, where you can leave a review and, yeah, you should definitely leave that review.**


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